


Cwtch

by princess_mouse



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fear, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Pets, Phobias, Protective Daryl Dixon, References to Depression, Sad and Happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-05-13 08:23:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19247446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princess_mouse/pseuds/princess_mouse
Summary: Daryl never intended to spy on Paul.As a hunter, he's observant and falls in love with every little thing his boyfriend does. Daryl wants to make a safe haven for Paul and show him the love he deserves.





	1. Chapter 1

Daryl never intended to spy on Paul.

It started innocently enough when Paul snuck out of Alexandria with a book in hand, he returned around dusk with a sunnier disposition then he left with. The next few times Daryl watched him slip through the gates with a book in hand, he decided to follow him. He assumed that Paul was trying to find a peaceful spot to read and he could suggest a few places he liked to hide from people. Daryl never expected that the scout spent his afternoon collecting flowers to press between the pages of his books. He watched Paul admire each flower in the pursuit of knowledge and appreciation.

The hunter stopped following him into the woods after that. He mentally vowed not to bother Paul as he searched for peace until he did something new that intrigued Daryl. It wasn’t uncommon for people in the new world to be restless in the night, many couldn’t sleep after all the wars, and Paul was one of the night owls. His light was always on in the middle of the night, Daryl watched him go through the motions of pacing around his bedroom. Those restless nights rendering Paul sleepless seemed to be when he was the most creative. Daryl considered it a curse to live across the street from him, when he couldn’t sleep, he watched Paul struggle too.

Paul loved to draw. His living room table was covered in papers with sketches of people and things that inspired him. He had an easel that he sometimes stood at to paint or even draw larger pictures. Those were the nights Daryl loved watching him most because he witnessed the emotional process of Paul’s artwork. There were works of beauty and pieces Paul tore up in a fit of rage then cried over. Daryl contemplated crossing the street on those tearful nights to offer his shoulder and an ear. He couldn’t stop looking away on the restless nights when Paul the artist was hard at work.

In the mornings and sometimes early evenings Paul did yoga in one of the upstairs bedrooms. His body stretched gracefully as he worked his way through his morning routine. When it was warm, Paul would sometimes do yoga in his garage that served as a makeshift Dojo. He had martial arts routines too. Then there was his mediation schedule that was done on the back porch or in the yoga room. Daryl would work on his bike at Aaron’s house so he could watch the sun kiss Paul’s semi-tanned skin. Those spying sessions usually left him more vulnerable to getting caught but Paul only smiled and greeted him on those days.

Paul was a fussy eater. He would force himself to consume foods he hated while he was out scavenging. He liked bread – he tended to bake a lot of it when he had free time at home. He preferred vegetables and fruit over supplemented protein bars. He would eat meat but pushed it around his plate until he had the nerves to stomach it. When he was alone in his home, he ate a lot. He was constantly snacking. If he wasn’t occupied in his workout routines or art, he was in his pantry looking for something to eat. When he was around people, he took small portions and was slow to consume anything off his plate. Daryl noticed at the Hilltop Christmas that Paul was nervous when it came to food. The scout loved cookies and thought Carol had the best recipes when it came to desserts. Paul made the worst retching sounds when he opened canned beans and paled when that was the mystery in the can. He didn’t like a lot of the jarred preserves that existed except for jam and pickles, he would smile as if he won the lottery when he was gifted jam. He’d skip off to the kitchen with the jar in hand to make himself a peanut butter and jam sandwich. Paul always asked Daryl to look for junk food and pop while he was out scavenging, the scout had a sweet tooth and hugged Daryl over a container of hot chocolate once.

On hunting and scavenging trips, Paul liked to pick up trinkets or pieces of nature. He pocketed tiny things like a feather or rare stones especially when Daryl would tell him about them. All the information and stories he had about nature he shared. Paul would beam over a simple tidbit of knowledge; he would ask a lot of questions that meant Daryl had to keep talking. He never minded though. Daryl found a small fossil when they were out fishing the one day and handed it to Paul to study. The scout declared it would be named Nemo. Daryl couldn’t stop laughing as Paul recounted its life before it became a fossil. When they scavenged houses, Paul collected art supplies, books, and movies. Sometimes he took pointless things like an antique poodle figurine. Daryl teased him until he found himself collecting the odd tchotchke to give to Paul.

Paul had nightmares. He denied them when he would wake up but he suffered from them. Daryl would rub his back and ease him out of the nightmares, he managed to keep the scout asleep while other times he woke up upset. Paul talked in his sleep and on occasion cried, Daryl would wipe his tears away as he lay with him. When they had to stay together out on the road, he always let Paul choose if he wanted to stand guard first. When they roomed together in other communities, they sometimes shared the bed. Daryl loved those nights when Paul slept soundly against him, his nightmares seemed minimal on those nights.

He knew nothing about cars or motorcycles. Paul would lean over Daryl’s shoulder whenever he was working on a project in his garage. He asked questions until the hunter grunted and told him to sit down to learn how to rebuild an engine with him. Paul knew all the names of the tools after an afternoon of playing twenty questions with Daryl. What started as a harmless session of spying on Paul from across the street turned full circle when Paul himself spied him working in the garage.

Daryl wondered sometimes if Paul was spying on him too.

Paul was terrified of spiders, moths, rats, and snakes. On more than one occasion the scout would shriek at the top of his lungs over one of the offensive creatures crossing his path. Daryl would laugh only to stop when he saw the sheer terror written on Paul’s soft features. Bright seafoam eyes leered at Daryl until he killed the insect or got rid of the threat. Paul would never deny that he feared the creatures only say it was a phobia. Daryl would vow to rid the earth of every creature that scared Paul if it would make him happy. There was only one scavenging trip that left the scout horrified and rejecting to step off the counter of the diner they were searching. Daryl never imagined Paul could work himself up into such a state of tears and hyperventilating over a few rats that were gnawing away at some fresh bodies. The scout jumped up on the counter and blubbered until Daryl offered to piggyback him out of the diner. They sat in the back of the car they were driving until things calmed down. Then there was the time Daryl didn’t intend to scare Paul. He’d found a little green frog while he was hunting and scooped it up. His intention was to teach Paul about all the different frogs and the nightly frog songs. Daryl told Paul he had a surprise for him and asked him to open his hands. Of course, the young man smiled willingly because every other time it was usually something like a small bird or bunny that Daryl brought back to show him. After Paul got to learn about natures gifts, he would let the kids see the creature too. The frog ribbited causing the younger man to scream and drop the frog. The afternoon was spent trying to catch a common green frog that got loose in Paul’s house. They laughed about it eventually though Paul told Daryl he was cruel and wouldn’t talk to him for the first hour of their frog hunt.

He liked the silent treatment. Paul never stopped talking and when he was mad, he rejected to speak to Daryl. The hunter found it infuriating, he would do everything in his power to make him talk. He would offer to let Paul choose the CDs for the trip, he would hug him and reject to let go until he spoke, and in his most drastic attempts he would tickle the scout. Sometimes it wasn’t Daryl’s fault, it was other people that frustrated the scout, and other times it was things that happened. There was the past that caused Paul pain then there was the incident when he was held at gunpoint that led to the fight with Morgan. Daryl risked a few punches and kicks until he got Paul’s body pinned to the floor of the trailer. He held the scout down with all his strength, his forehead rest against the younger man’s as he explained to him that he needed to breathe, he didn’t let go when the crying started or when Paul finally told him what was wrong. Daryl held him for as long as he needed then iced all his bruises, wiped away the tears, and kissed him lovingly.

Paul was an ugly crier yet his eyes were the most beautiful green against the red backdrops. Daryl felt guilty that he admired his friend’s eyes most when he was suffering. Then there were the tears of happiness Paul got when they spent a night together.

‘Just let me have this.’ It was Paul’s signature phrase when they crawled into bed together. Daryl would tell him that he was wanted which cued the happy tears. He whispered that he could give Paul everything and he could accept his love. Daryl watched the scout give to everyone and receive nothing in return, the resentment was deeply buried as the scout smiled and said yes. Every night they spent together Daryl whispered that it was safe for Paul to accept being loved.

Daryl knew every scar on Paul’s body. He didn’t ask but he could see that he suffered as much as he had in his life. Paul would try to talk about his childhood in foster care only to shut down. Daryl would patiently offer parts of his childhood in return for his lover’s attempts. Their fingers would trace over each others’ scars curiously, each kissing years of pain away from old wounds, and neither willing to talk about the cause.

Paul had a beautiful singing voice that was soft and lyrical. His cantabile voice reminded Daryl of Beth. Paul would sing while he cooked or drew. He liked to sing country and folk songs. Occasionally, he surprised Daryl when he would sing a rock song in his own way. The hunter could spend hours laying on the couch listening to Paul muse away in song. Daryl used to play the guitar for his own enjoyment and promised his boyfriend he would find one. There were many things they did together but sharing music felt like a way to heal together. They had a huge collection of CDs, records, and cassettes. When they finally established Paul’s house would be their home, their collection of music and books florished. Daryl never grew tired of music if Paul was singing along.

His favorite color was yellow. Daryl searched for yellow paint when he was on a run with Rick. The next week was spent painting the inside of the house. Paul stood in the sea of yellow smiling just as bright as the Bumblebee Yellow paint.

He hated people calling him Jesus. He preferred Paul and found it intimate that Daryl was the only person who called him by his real name. His last name was Monroe but he changed it to his mother’s maiden name Rovia when he was eighteen. His full name was Paul Thomas Rovia and he didn’t want to talk about what happened to his parents. He didn’t have any photos of them and wished he did.

Paul didn’t smoke or drink a lot. He teased Daryl about how gross his smoking habit was. When they drank, Paul was a lightweight and usually threw up at the end of the night. He acted untrusting around people when they drank at events like Christmas. Daryl stopped drinking at those events to make sure he could read Paul’s flinchy body language and politely excuse them from the party. The scout would never say he was uncomfortable with attending those events and always put on a brave face to please his friends in the community.

When Daryl brought home a kitten, Paul was so excited that he said it was the only gift he’d need for a lifetime. The little black cat was named Thackery Binx because of Hocus Pocus. Daryl thought it was a dumb movie until he saw the joy it brought Paul to hold his sleeping kitten as they watched a movie he loved as a child. That bled into a weeklong movie marathon of Disney movies for the couple. Paul sang along gleefully with each movie until Daryl joined him.

Daryl thought he knew everything about Paul from their friendship, his escapades of spying, and forming a relationship with the man he loved. He was aware that Paul had done something similar, strategically knowing when to cross the street to bother him as he worked on a car or prepared the meat from his hunt. Paul liked to play small pranks and tease Daryl which only seemed to add fuel to the fire for him to find ways to bug the scout.

There were gray days that Paul was unrecognizable. Daryl had gray days too.

There were new scars littering Paul’s pale skin and the hunter wondered how they got there. Daryl asked about them only to be told it would stop.

Then there was the sneaking out at weird hours. Paul only disappeared for a few minutes but enough times for Daryl to start worrying.

Beautiful seafoam eyes stared back into steely blue eyes, the red backdrop making the green more vibrant than usual. Daryl loved the color not the suffering he saw in Paul’s eyes. “Please tell me what’s wrong,” he begged.

“I’m sad,” Paul replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cwtch (Welsh) - A hug or A safe haven given to you by the one you love.  
> This is my first Desus story posted in the fandom. I'll try to post regularly! Happy reading and hit the kudos button!


	2. Chapter 2

Daryl knew most of Paul’s emotions and expressions.

He recognized the scout’s varying degrees of happiness. Paul had a way of radiating happiness when he felt it. His smile would reach his eyes causing them to glow. Daryl was content to bask in that happiness with him. There was elation over a special day spent outside the gates. The joy of cooking together and the ecstasy of spending the day in bed. Paul’s happiness effected the way he talked, kissed, and moved.

Paul knew how to bury his anger. He repressed everything until he lost control. Daryl had witnessed on a few occasions the way Paul’s pent up rage translated into fighting. He would let the scout fight until it became obvious, he needed to intervene to prevent recklessness. There was the silent treatment then there was Paul’s arguing. They fought like any couple, they yelled until they realized it was the fear of losing each other causing them fight.

Daryl loved each expression and every sounds Paul made because of pleasure. He traced his fingers over every muscle and sharp curve affectionately, he respected when the younger man would shy away from touches. Paul’s blue green eyes would always end up half lidded or sealed shut, his mouth agape as he struggled to find actual words to express what he was feeling physically. Daryl never missed a flicker of discomfort or pleasure and he knew the meaning of every sound his partner made.

He knew the hidden meaning of each smile. Daryl liked to be the reason that Paul smiled. There was a tender smile reserved for the smallest members of the community that had a fondness attached to it. The mischievous smile usually indicated Paul was in a playful mood or scheming a prank. Daryl knew each sad smile that was forced and the smile that was reserved just for him.

Paul had a few nervous habits. He liked to chew his nails; his thumbnails were always the primary focus for his nervous chewing. He bounced his knee when he was impatient. He played with his hair by twirling it around his finger, tucking it behind his ear, or mindlessly braiding it. He fidgeted with the ring Daryl put on his finger by constantly twisting it around his finger. The ring was a promise, a vow of love and commitment. It also served to calm Paul at his worst when Daryl couldn’t hold his hand.

There were different kinds of tears. Paul had tears of joy, anger, pain, and sadness. Daryl was sometimes confused by the things that made Paul cry. Something as simple as handing him a lightly worn comic book could cause tears of happiness or a poem evoking sorrow. Daryl was always willing to listen and share the burden or excitement with Paul.

The sadness Paul was expressing was different. His seafoam eyes were full of pain, his nails chewed down to the nailbeds, and his perfectly groomed hair was pulled into a messy bun. It was early evening when Paul attempted to sneak into the house undetected. One deceptive floorboard creaking alerted Daryl to his return. Their stand off in the living room continued as Paul cried and rejected to be touched.

Daryl understood boundaries when it came to unwanted affection. He respected Paul’s need for space and didn’t miss the obvious flinch when he tried to reach for him. “Why yah sad?” Daryl asked. He genuinely cared; he would do everything in his power to help the man he loved. Daryl watched observantly as Paul fidgeted with the ring on his finger, his eyes were the greenest he had seen them. He had admired those eyes since the day they met and longed to resolve the pain that resided in them.

“My soul hurts,” Paul sniffled. The tears that welled up in his beautiful eyes spilled over. His heart ached in his chest causing him to feel suffocated. The pain was in his body, mind, and soul. Paul’s dreams were haunted by the past, he was having anxiety attacks constantly while he walked through the community, and his frequent bolts out of the house were to hide that he was constantly upset.

It could have been the derogatory slur spat at him as he walked through the streets of Alexandria. Having a gun held to his head while someone called him ‘pretty boy’ and referred to him as a beautiful man still made his skin crawl a year later. Being accused that he couldn’t pull the trigger also played on repeat in his head. He was scared and that fear didn’t dissipate for a long time. Even during his fight with Morgan, he was focused on his lack of judgement regarding the Saviors that day instead of his own safety.

Paul’s childhood was riddled with tragedy. His parents died in an accident when he was two and his grandparents surrendered him to foster care. He moved from home to home, sometimes he was there long enough to believe he would be adopted and other times it would be for a few weeks. Each home was different and added to a long list of mental, emotional and physical abuse. His final home for four years was a group home for boys. There he learned to protect himself from the abuse people inflicted on him. Unfortunately, he couldn’t protect himself from the abuse he would suffer in university or the controlling boyfriend he would date until the world ‘ended’.

He remembered days choking back pills from orange bottles. Nights downing most of the bottle and longing for his pain to end. Then there was the hospital trip to have his stomach pumped and his boyfriend screaming at him over another cut wrist.

No one knew that his relationship was all slamming doors, overturned furniture, unwanted touches, and raised fists. The fear of fighting back crippled Paul as he cowered in a corner and screamed for his boyfriend to stop.

They were a toxic combination – a drug addict and an emotionally damaged man.

Paul had a black belt. He never feared defending himself when he walked home alone from work at night but he feared his boyfriend. He didn’t know then that he was in a controlling relationship. He willingly accepted it because someone loved and wanted him.

Daryl was broken too.

They were both abused and unwanted. They had each been manipulated by a controlling man. They knew how to fight and cry behind closed doors. It was almost a comfort for Paul to know Daryl was just as broken as he was.

“Let’s sit,” Daryl suggested. He took the lead by walking further into their living room then taking a seat on the couch. He peaked over his shoulder and patted the spot next to him on the couch. Paul eventually budged from his spot; he wrapped the long black cardigan he was wearing around his thin muscular body before sitting down. Their knees bumped together unceremoniously, it surprised Daryl when Paul desperately grabbed for his hand and choked back a loud sob.

Paul gripped his boyfriend’s hand tight while his other hand wiped away the tears running down his cheeks. “You love me, right?” he asked desperately.

“Always gonna love yah,” Daryl replied. He heard the fear in Paul’s voice when he asked the question. “Whatever’s wrong, I can help.”

The younger man knew he was loved and shouldn’t fear talking to his partner. Daryl would go to the ends of the world for someone he loved. Paul was grateful that he was in love with someone who wanted to heal with him. “I’m depressed and I don’t know what to do. Everything hurts. I need you to help me stop,” Paul sobbed.

“Stop what sweetheart?” Daryl asked.

Paul gently pulled his hand from Daryl’s grasp. His hands trembled as he went to roll up the sleeve of his cardigan. He tried to hide each cut from Daryl and couldn’t bear the thought of hiding his pain any longer. His constant escapes out of the house were to cry over his anxieties or relieve the pain with the quick glide of a razor against his flesh. Paul dropped his scarred wrist back into his lap, he averted his gaze and stared down at the mess he created on his once pale skin.

“I’ve done it too,” Daryl said. He pointed to a burn mark on his left hand that he inflicted upon himself after losing Beth. He understood the numbness and need to feel something. “We can get through this,” he offered.

The scout nodded.

“Think yah need a hug,” Daryl said. He shuffled closer to Paul and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend.

Paul melted into the warm embrace. He needed the hug he was tangled in and clung to Daryl as tight as he could. His body ached and shook from the sobs that reverberated through him. Paul’s tears were seeping into Daryl’s shirt as he tried to hide his face.

“Wanna talk about it or wait?” Daryl lightly pushed.

“Just hold me for a bit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will post on Sundays!  
> I hope you all enjoy the next part. It was time to get into Paul's past a bit and see what else Daryl noticed.


	3. Chapter 3

They didn’t talk that evening.

They ended up sharing a bath and going to bed early.

Daryl was the first to wake up, his face had been buried in Paul’s lavender scented hair all night as he clung to him as if he may try to escape. He pressed affectionate kisses to the back of his boyfriend’s head, he enjoyed being the big spoon when they cuddled, and he enjoyed the occasional time he ended up the little spoon. He was disappointed that he needed to go hunting. He couldn’t justify letting Paul or Judith go hungry if he didn’t go looking for meat. He had a job to do which provided the people he loved with food even when he didn’t want to go trudging around in the cold autumn air.

“Paul,” he whispered. His lips ghosted lightly above Paul’s ear as he spoke. “Gonna go huntin’. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“No,” Paul mumbled tiredly. He fought against Daryl’s warm embrace around him to roll over. He nuzzled his face into his boyfriend’s clothed chest.

They had a tradition. A ritual that usually was reserved for when one of them was going away on a run or hunting. Paul always acted resistant about Daryl leaving, he would whine indignantly while he clung to him. Kisses were exchanged along with other intimate gestures. Daryl would reassure his partner in physical love even though Paul was also in need of verbal confirmation that this wasn’t the last time they’d see each other.

Daryl knew it was separation anxiety.

He felt it many times since the world ended. He always managed to find his way back to Carol. While he would argue losing Beth or Glenn was the hardest for him to cope with, it was Merle’s death that caused the worst of his anxiety. They were bound together through blood; they grew up understanding the pain and struggle it was to be a Dixon. With Merle, Daryl had to accept that he died on that roof top. He never expected to find his older brother again just to kill him in the end.

Paul’s anxiety stemmed from always being alone. His guarded personality mirrored that of Daryl’s. Their relationship consisted of regular emotional ups and downs. Paul’s fears translated into pleading and arguing where Daryl’s was anger based. Those arguments were fuelled by pushing each others’ buttons until they finally discovered the root of the problem. In the beginning it was about showing their affection for each other in public. Paul wanted people to know they were together, and Daryl struggled with being that open with the community. Paul’s continuous fights were over Daryl’s multiple near death experiences. He would scream himself hoarse over those events because he wasn’t ready to bury the person he loved. Daryl started to be more cautious every time he went out because he was aware Paul would give up living if he didn’t return. 

He found Paul’s mumbling to be endearing. The younger man was practically glued to him and if he got any closer, Daryl was sure they’d be fused together. Each ‘no’ and ‘don’t leave yet’ was his favorite part of the morning. He was guilty of it too. He’d negotiate with Paul on mornings he would leave. He was notorious for instigating sexual acts when the scout tried to leave.

“We need food,” Daryl countered. He wasn’t being unjust, they needed meat to balance their basically vegetarian lifestyle. It wasn’t a slight on Paul’s cooking but he tended to favor vegetables more when they ran low on meat. Daryl would eat anything his boyfriend cooked, he just liked to balance his plate with squirrel or rabbit.

Paul groaned and rolled away from Daryl’s warm body. He wasn’t in the mood to argue with his boyfriend at dawn. When he sifted the freezer the day before in search of meat, he came back empty handed. All they had was a few mystery cans or frozen stew. Paul hated mystery cans and he was suspicious of them showing up in their pantry. He had a feeling Daryl had peeled off the labels on a few cans of beans as a prank to exact his revenge in their endless prank war. “I know but can’t you just set some snares? Come back to bed and keep my company?” Paul mumbled.

“Wanna go huntin’?” Daryl asked. “Get outside the gate for a bit?”

The scout considered the offer. He stayed within the gate for two weeks, his decline into depression kept him grounded to the community. He was unfocused lately and didn’t think he was in the best position to risk his life or Daryl’s outside the gate. “I’m not in the mood,” Paul whispered.

“This to do with being sad and yah soul hurtin’?” Daryl asked. He inched closer to Paul and risked being pushed away.

Paul hated how perceptive Daryl was sometimes. He could deny it, bury all the pain down like he tended to do. He could say it was because of the past he didn’t want to talk about and ask Daryl to leave the topic alone. The hunter would respect a boundary if he wanted one. It was greedy to ask for boundaries when Daryl was always such an open book with him regarding his past. He swallowed down the growing lump in his throat before he answered. “Yah,” Paul replied.

“Wanna talk?” Daryl asked the second time in twelve hours.

The lump got thicker in Paul’s throat. His eyes were stinging, tears were attempting to seep through his closed eyes. His breathing changed, he was fighting back the urge to sob or start pouring forth all that was bothering him. Daryl’s arms tightened around his waist and pulled him close. The hunter always knew when he needed affection. “Later?” Paul choked out.

“I don’t gotta go,” Daryl said. He would willingly stay if it meant he could take some of the burden.

Paul breathed in a few steady breaths and counted to five with each until he calmed down. “You do. I can’t stomach what’s in those mystery cans…I know it will be beans,” he said. He tried to joke, if he could lighten the mood it would be easier to let Daryl go.

“If I cook, yah gonna eat? Been pickin’ at your food lately,” Daryl asked. He only asked because he was concerned. Paul pushed his food around his plate as if it were still alive and could scamper off. Daryl would tease him until he offered to take some of the meat in exchange for vegetables.

“Hard to feel hungry when you’re sad,” Paul replied.

Daryl understood. “Wanna cook together?” he offered next. He needed to keep Paul talking for as long as possible. There would be answers somewhere within their conversation.

“Maybe.”

The hunter groaned. “Stubborn,” he said between the soft kisses he pressed to Paul’s cheek.

“You love it,” Paul shot back playfully.

Daryl smiled. He missed the playful moments they had and appreciated that he was able to witness even a small sliver of happiness. “I can stay till yah fall asleep again,” he said.

“So, you can watch me cry myself to sleep?”

“I love you so much,” Daryl said. He tightened his hold on Paul’s slight body and tried to get as close as he could to him. “Do anything if it made yah happy,” he whispered. Each word was emphasised with a kiss to his boyfriend’s damp cheeks.

Leaving never got easier. Daryl waited until Paul was asleep before he slipped away to go hunting. He didn’t like to see his boyfriend crying because he was upset, he didn’t enjoy chasing Thackery around the house to lock the cat up with his boyfriend either. Daryl was distracted by his thoughts. He hurried himself along through the forest, checking each snare and trap he set. He never believed in God but he felt like he was blessed when he shot a couple squirrels and rabbits. He followed a few tracks further into the woods only for the animal to be long gone. Deer were a rarity to find and Daryl always felt victorious coming home with one. Skunk and opossum were usually frowned upon. Paul put up a right fuss over Daryl skinning them in the house. His search was cut short by a small herd of walkers passing through. He left them alone in favor of sneaking back towards Alexandria. His pack was full of enough food to feed his family and the Grimes for two weeks. On his way home, he looked for something beautiful from nature to bring back to Paul – a feather, a rock, or a small flower would do. He needed to clear his head for a bit before returning home, he needed to make sure he had patience and consideration for the conversation that awaited him. Breathing in the brisk fall air, Daryl listened to the sounds around him, his eyes surveyed the landscape as he allowed himself a bit of peace that he longed to share with Paul.

Back at home, Paul was engaged in a staring contest with himself in the bathroom mirror. He gripped the sink tightly and tried to calm himself down. He couldn’t bring himself to look into the sink, his hands shook too much to reach for the small pair of scissors that had fallen in after he realized what he had done.

Paul was never going to leave the house again. He vowed that as he stared at his reflection. He made a mistake and there was no real way to undo it. He could continue to chastise himself or he could try to make it better. He counted to five with his breaths until he could unclasp his right hand from the sink edge to reach into the sink full of his beloved beard. He picked up the scissors and studied the offensive object, what started as a simple beard trimming resulted in him cutting almost every hair off. Steadying his scissors, he decided he only had one choice and that was to clean up the mess he made.

The beard made him appear older. It was a security blanket for him, and he rather enjoyed the grooming aspect of having a beard. Paul shed a tear for his facial hair then admired his face with only a light coverage. He looked younger than he was, his baby face showed and the longer he looked in the mirror the more comfortable he was with the change.

“I’m thirty-four,” Paul mused at the revelation.

He put the scissors away before he ended up ruining his hair next. His boyfriend loved to play with the long brown locks and would probably have his own anxiety over the change. Paul pulled his hair into a bun and decided to steal one of Daryl’s shirts to snuggle up in.

Paul’s happiness didn’t last. He walked aimlessly around the house with a gray cloud looming over him. He wasn’t in the mood to mediate or go through one of his fitness routines. After a brief search of the kitchen, the only thing he was in the mood for was a can of pineapple rings. He wasn’t motivated enough to bake even though he had the ingredients to make himself bread.

He eventually settled down at the dining room table with his sketch pad. Paul fidgeted with each pencil before he got started, he had a way of lining up his art supplies in order of how he might use them. The next step was choosing what to draw. He chewed his pencil until he couldn’t stand the silence of the house. He got up to search for one of Daryl’s Metallica CDs to fill the void then returned to his sketch pad.

He mindlessly doodled with no true goal. He looked at some of his work in progress pieces but lacked inspiration. Paul missed the art studio he built in his apartment. He had everything he could ever dream of in that room to allow him to create. Daryl was diligent when he searched for certain paints or brushes. He understood the purpose of each brush and pencil. He listened to Paul ramble on about his art supplies being like Daryl’s mechanic tools.

He ended up scribbling most of the doodles out when he became frustrated and tossed his pencil aside.

The new scars on Paul’s wrist were distracting. He lightly rubbed his thumb over the silver scars and the fresh red ones. Each one a reminder that he was hurting inside, he wasn’t coping in a healthy way since he was nineteen. Paul got better when the world ended. It became easier to fight every day to survive instead of focusing on the pain he carried daily. It was another unhealthy coping mechanism, it allowed him to focus on others instead of himself. He gave selflessly and feared to ask others for help himself.

Paul was so absorbed in his self-hatred he didn’t hear Daryl return though he felt his favorite cardigan drape over his shoulders. There was the soft caress of rough hands against his soft skin and a compliment of how good he looked without his beard. Then came a cup of tea put in his hands as Paul stared blankly at the wall ahead of him. Daryl prattled on about what they could make for supper while he sipped at his coffee.

All the words registered in Paul’s brain. They clicked into place just like each kind-hearted gesture Daryl doted upon him when he returned home. His favorite mug with the constellations on it, warmed his hands and drew him out of the past. He lingered there because it was his secret and something he never spoke about with his boyfriend. He listened intently as Daryl talked about how beautiful all the changing leaves were when he was out and suggested they go for a stroll one day before winter.

Paul broke eye contact with the yellow wall and turned to look Daryl in the eyes.

Daryl was aware of the sudden attention and smiled warmly. “Yah look beautiful,” he complimented. He always wondered what Paul looked like without a beard and he wasn’t disappointed.

“I’m ready to talk...”

The hunter looked surprised. He put down his coffee mug in favor of reaching across the table. He left his hand palm up and waited for Paul’s hand. “How ‘bout we eat first,” Daryl suggested.

“I’m going to be sick if I eat before this conversation,” Paul said. He took on calming sip of his tea then set it aside. He slid his hand into Daryl’s open palm and was thankful for the support. Paul was safe, he was with someone who would protect him, and the only way back to happiness was to trust Daryl with his past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it is a day late!   
> Happy reading everyone!


	4. Chapter 4

Daryl paced around the living room; his hands nervously combed through his knotted hair while he waited for his boyfriend to come back downstairs. He suspected it was a stalling tactic. Paul went upstairs ten minutes ago to get his favorite quilt and was taking his sweet time. Daryl’s pacing led him to the bottom of the stairs, he leaned casually against the railing to wait for his boyfriend to reappear.

“Paul hurry up!”

The scout lay on his bed paralyzed in fear, he hugged his quilt to his chest and silently cried. He was trying to spare Daryl the stress of watching him go through another anxiety attack. He heard his boyfriend’s voice echoing in the stairwell, there no malice only a person longing to know more about him.

“Paul Thomas Rovia Dixon,” Daryl crowed playfully. He teetered against the railing like a small child while he waited. He was impatient, most of his life he was never eager for much aside from hunting and riding his motorcycle. Paul was the one person who made him impatient. He was ornery with most people aside from the select people he regarded as family. Paul had so much mystery surrounding him from scars to the faded little cross tattoo on the side of his left-hand middle finger. Somehow, he knew the wait was always worth it if he could get Paul to talk him about his past and it made him impatient waiting.

Paul’s whole being ached. He didn’t have a voice to call out for Daryl though that was the person he wanted to comfort him.

When there as no response, Daryl ascended the stairs towards their bedroom. Thackery ran by and ducked into Paul’s yoga room obviously intending to sunbath instead of keeping the scout company. Daryl tiptoed over to their bedroom door and peeked in. He saw Paul curled up on the bed, clinging to the quilt in tears. His light footing made it easy for him to sneak into their bedroom and crawl onto the bed. Daryl snuggled up close enough to Paul that their noses nearly touched.

“Got an idea,” Daryl proposed. He grabbed the thin top sheet on the bed and pulled it up over their bodies. He was thankful that the bed was not made for once. Paul had a habit of making the bed each morning in a pursuit of normalcy. Under the safety of the blanket Daryl leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to Paul’s nose. “When I was a kid, ma brother would make a fort. Safe place fer tallkin’. What’s said under here stays here,” Daryl said.

Paul appreciated Daryl’s approach. Being offered a safe space meant a lot to him and he was grateful that his boyfriend strived to give him that. “Where do I start?” Paul asked. He pondered that question for a moment and melted into the soothing touch of Daryl’s fingers tracing shapes onto his back.

“Ain’t no rush,” Daryl said pecking another kiss to Paul’s nose. “Take yer time.”

It was hot under the blanket but it was a welcome space. Daryl doled out the affection until Paul was starting to get his thoughts organized. “My parents died in a car accident when I was two. My grandparents decided they were to old to take care of another child and surrendered me to the foster care system. I searched for them when I was eighteen but they already passed away. All my other family was unaware of my existence. I know nothing about my parents aside from last names…sad eh?” Paul said. It hurt to talk about his so-called family. He never had the patience after he turned eighteen to research his family lineage further. “I think my grandparents thought I would get adopted by a nice family and raised up by younger people. Instead, I was bumped from home to home. I had foster parents who were kind and some who were abusive. I’d run away from the abusive homes only to end up in another one.”

“You weren’t?” Daryl trailed off. He understood that was a very personal question he was hinting too.

Paul closed his eyes and took a calming breath. “No…it was emotional and physical abuse. I was raised in religious, god-fearing homes so being different wasn’t accepted. I asked God constantly to accept me and find me a loving family. All I ever wanted was a family. At fourteen I was in a group home for boys. I could pick an activity and I chose martial arts to defend myself. I was small and I never wanted to be in a situation where I couldn’t fight my way out,” Paul continued.

“Yah still religious?” Daryl asked curiously.

“I liked to sing hymns in church and in school. Went to a catholic school with uniforms,” Paul chuckled. “I found comfort in prayer until I discovered yoga and meditation. Still carry my rosary in my jacket pocket just in case.”

The only religion Daryl knew was his parents’ love for God and guns which only taught him hatred. He was fortunate enough as a child to not be forced into Sunday rituals as his parents had been. He only heard preaching when the liquor hit his father’s tongue and he needed a reason to justify beating Merle and Daryl.

“Learning martial arts got me through high school. Foster care was pleased that I graduated with honors and had a scholarship to attend the Savannah College of Art and Design where I got a degree in painting and minored in art history. You know that and my main job was illustrating for a series of classic novels. I got depressed in university because I was still struggling with being unwanted as a child and I got myself into an abusive relationship,” Paul said. He returned to his breathing exercises to calm himself down.  

Daryl wished he met Paul before the world ended. He would have worshipped the ground his boyfriend stood on. “You are wanted now and there are so many people that love you,” Daryl said. He traced the words ‘I love you’ on Paul’s back.

“I know…I know that,” Paul said. Tears started to roll down his cheeks again. He feared talking about his ex boyfriend. Daryl was his second boyfriend, the first one who ever treated him with respect, and he worried talking about his ex would disgust his boyfriend.

“Yer getting’ worked up,” Daryl said softly. “Ain’t making yah talk ‘bout him if yah don’t wanna.”

Paul shook his head. “I lived in constant fear because of him. My life with him was nothing more than screaming, bruises, and broken furniture. I tried to commit suicide twice because of my depression and never tried to defend myself because I was scared,” he choked out.

“Yah didn’t deserve that life with him.”

“I never tried to leave aside from my suicide attempts,” Paul mumbled.

Daryl’s own eyes itched. He pulled Paul against his chest and held him there as he let all the information sink in. He understood that Paul struggled at times and was emotional, it never occurred to him that his boyfriend could try to commit suicide again. “You’d tell me, right? If yah thought ‘bout suicide again?” Daryl asked cautiously.

“I would never do that to you,” Paul said. He released one of his arms from his quilt in favor of returning the hug Daryl had him engulfed in. “I want you to know I’m hurting and to help me find a way to cope. I did get better when the world ended and met you.”

“Why yah cutting then?” Daryl countered.

Paul let out a nervous laugh. “I used to do it because it gave me a way to be in control. Lately, I don’t feel like I’m in control of my life,” he said.

“Why?”

The scout fell silent for a few minutes as he thought about Daryl’s simple question. There was the man from the Kingdom that spat hateful words at him in the street whenever they passed each other. They were just words; ones Paul had been called many times before and somehow, they hurt more in the new world than the old. He had nightmares that ranged from his ex boyfriend to the Savior holding the gun to his head. Being that close to death haunted Paul all the time. Held to Daryl’s chest, his fears were minimal. Daryl would have kicked his ex boyfriend’s ass and he would have disarmed the Savior instantly with his crossbow. Daryl wouldn’t hesitate to protect him.

“Can I do anythin’?” Daryl asked.

Paul was almost to hot to be trapped under their blanket fortress. His hair was starting to sweat to his forehead and his body became uncomfortably warm. He grappled with his desire to escape and avoid talking about what was bothering him. His brain which was always working on overtime and trying to find a logical explanation for everything told him to stay put. “I’ve been having a lot of restless nights lately. Some dreams about not escaping the old world but mostly about when I had a gun held to my head. What if I never made it out of that room and that Savior shot me? What if I never got to say I love you or got to kiss you again? What if I never got to see Judith or Hershel grow up? What would you have done had I been seriously injured?” Paul sobbed uncontrollably.

“Yah can’t focus on that. Yer here and alive,” Daryl whispered. His hug got tighter around Paul’s small frame as it shook from all the crying.

“Why didn’t someone adopt me? Why did I let a guy beat me up and abuse me? Why do I let that asshole Jordan call me a fag?” Paul wished he could stop himself from talking. He managed to stop himself before he got further because the next thing was an accusation about the mystery cans in the pantry and he was planning to cry if they were in fact beans.

Daryl stiffened over the last question. “What do yah mean Jordan’s been calling you that word?” he asked in a defensive tone. Daryl hated that word, detested it because he heard it all his life. “That arrogant lil’ puke is callin’ you demeanin’ things?”

“It shouldn’t bother me! I’ve heard it all before,” Paul said defensively.

The hunter grunted in response. “Doesn’t matter! I’ll take care of it. If it’s botherin’ you it matters,” Daryl said.

“I’m sorry,” Paul whimpered. He could feel the tension in Daryl’s body, and he felt guilty for causing it.

Daryl sighed. “I love you, want nothin’ but the best for you. No more what ifs. The people not adoptin’ yah missed out. That guy didn’t deserve yah and I wouldn’t do anythin’ like that to yah. I count as family and lover. Gonna be stuck with me forever, Paul. No shame in bein’ scared over having a gun to your head, yah survived and ‘m grateful you’re here. That lil’ asswipe thinks he’s clever callin’ yah names and it ain’t right. Yah can always talk to me ‘bout this stuff. I care and wanna help,” he said. With Paul’s face buried in his chest, he pressed affectionate kisses into his boyfriend’s hair.

“Daryl?”

The hunter released his hold on Paul and shuffled back a bit so he could look at him. Bloodshot eyes stared back at him. Paul was a mess of emotions yet there was a peaceful air about him. “What is it, darlin’?” Daryl asked. His Georgian drawl kicked in naturally when he said certain words and he knew Paul loved that accent.

“There is still details and things you don’t know about my past,” Paul said.

“When yah feel ready.”

Paul was relieved and accepted that answer. “I’ll give you the razorblades I was using to hurt myself. I need to stop coping that way,” he said.

Daryl’s fingers gently swept some of Paul’s hair away from his seafoam eyes. He was proud of his boyfriend’s progress and gave him a reassuring smile. “What yah told me stays in the fort until next time, okay?” Daryl said.

“Okay,” Paul said returning the smile. “Can we go cook supper? I’m starving.”

The hunter chuckled and pulled the thin sheet off them. He leaned over and kissed Paul properly. It was a simple kiss, the kind that meant ‘I love you and don’t expect anything in return’. He was elated when the kiss was returned. “Let’s get cookin’,” Daryl said. When he was finally standing, he took a moment to crack his back and noticed Paul was habitually making their bed.

“I feel a bit better,” Paul said confidently.

Daryl watched his boyfriend make their bed then offered his hand so they could walk down together to the kitchen. They debated over the mystery cans while they skinned the squirrels and rabbits. Paul and Daryl relentlessly teased each other and played twenty questions. It was Daryl who wanted to know trivial things about his boyfriend and Paul seemed to enjoy playing along. They enjoyed their casual conversation while they prepared a stir-fry.

“When did you get your finger tattoo?” Daryl asked curiously.

Paul grinned. “What is the meaning behind your tattoos?” he countered.

Daryl eyed Paul seductively. The mood had lightened significantly, he hoped it would stay that way for a bit. He was enjoying Paul’s moments of clarity. “Tell yah after supper,” he teased.  

“I want to watch movies too,” Paul said.

“Whatever yah want, darlin’.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They finally talked!   
> Thank god there was no writers block this week. Last week I rewrote the third chapter multiple times to set up this weeks!   
> Happy reading.


	5. Chapter 5

Daryl was contently seated in his favorite tree in the woods.

He liked to scale the tree in the early hours of the morning to hide away from everyone. When he wanted the sounds of nature as a soundtrack, he would lounge in the crook of the branches while the stress melted away. He enjoyed being one with nature. He also enjoyed sneaking one of Paul’s many novels to get lost in while he was in his safe place.

In the early hours of the morning, Daryl checked his pack to make sure his book was secure before sneaking out. He made a quick exit from Alexandria before Michonne could get a hold of him. He would admit he threw a few punches at Jordan when he returned. His hand throbbed the whole walk as he hurried into the woods to enjoy the autumn weather before the snow arrived.

He climbed his favorite tree and perched himself comfortably so the morning sun would hit his skin and keep him warm. The tattered copy of Treating Survivors of Childhood Abuse was secured in his hand while he searched for ways to help Paul. The book helped him cope with his past and he hoped it would help Paul.

This was the fourth morning he snuck out to do research. He knew it would be easy to hand the book to Paul and insist he read it. That would be the easy solution instead he approached each day with something new. He asked Michonne if Paul could take some time off guard duty to allow him time to heal. The afternoons were free for them to spent time together around the house even though Daryl pushed for Paul to head outside.

Each afternoon was dedicated to something Paul wanted or needed to do.

Daryl was a bit reluctant to do yoga. He reminded Paul that he was forty-seven and didn’t want to ruin his back completely. The younger man laughed then went on to teach the yoga lesson. Daryl would never admit that he felt better after a yoga session, he joined Paul each day in his yoga ritual and left feeling refreshed.

They both decided on the second day to learn how to play chess. Neither of them knew how to play and were determined to figure it out. The previous owners had bought the fancy chessboard only for it to remain in the packaging. Daryl watched Paul read all the instructions thoroughly before he set up the board. They lightly argued over the rules until they got through one game. Daryl nearly fell off his chair laughing when Paul declared it was the most boring thing they ever did as a couple. The hunter agreed and packed the chessboard away. Paul returned to the kitchen with a deck of cards and a playful smirk on his face, all bets were on for who got stuck doing laundry.

He didn’t have a suggestion for the third day. Paul was content sitting on the back deck sketching all afternoon. Daryl sat with him in the perfect silence reading. They enjoyed each others presence while they did their own thing.

A gurgle pulled Daryl away from his thoughts and reading.

Standing at the trunk of the tree was a walker. He continued to bump into the tree and gurgle at Daryl. His decaying skin hung off him as he stared up at the hunter.

Daryl tucked his book safely against his leg while he pulled his crossbow out. He took aim and shot the bolt into the deranged walker’s skull. It rumpled to the ground and lay amongst a few other walkers that showed interest in Daryl’s reading tree.

“Asshole,” Daryl grumbled. He put his crossbow aside and picked up his book to resume reading.

He knew he couldn’t fix Paul just like no one could fix him. The only thing he could do was provide his boyfriend with a safe environment and assist him in coping with the past. He didn’t want to take the healing process away from Paul. He knew there would be boundaries and times that his boyfriend wanted to work on things on his own. Paul asked him if they could make a blanket fort to talk again which unloaded more about his childhood and relationship in greater detail. Daryl listened, offered his comforts then allowed Paul space.

Daryl suggested seeing Siddiq but Paul declined. He didn’t want to be put back on anti-depressants after being off them for so long. Daryl left the topic alone and instead asked Father Gabriel what time church started on Sundays and asked if he did a lot of hymn singing. Daryl proposed the idea over supper one night, Paul chewed at his bottom lip and said he would think about it.

He continued reading and wondered what his boyfriend was up too.

In Alexandria, Paul was sitting on the back deck bundled up in one of Daryl’s hoodies while he meditated. He charged his iPod and listened to calming didgeridoo music as he let all his thoughts melt away.

He didn’t see Aaron waving vigorously over the fence to get his attention. He didn’t hear his name being called, he was deep in his thoughts and nothing else around him mattered. He put himself into a focused meditation and spent his time breathing through a mantra.

Om Namah Shivia – I honor the divinity within me.

Paul revisited his leather bond sketchbook that contained a list of mantras for different moods and selected one that would remind him to accept and love himself as he was. It was there to remind him that he was good enough and could heal with this mantra’s teachings. He liked focused mediation; his sketchbook had a small collection of mantras he found useful throughout the years before the end. In the new world, they were like tiny prayers and more wholesome because he was able to connect with nature easily. The sound pollution of the world was dead and brought back the sounds of Mother Nature.

Daryl returned home in the afternoon to Aaron’s praise over beating up Jordan. Michonne had given up on lecturing the hunter a long time ago, she gave him a look that said she was aware of the incident and wasn’t going to press the matter. Aaron chatted away about Paul being so engrossed in his mediation that he couldn’t get his attention to tell him about Jordan.

That news pleased Daryl when he finally escaped his friend and put away his hunting gear in the hall closet. He snuck around the house until he confirmed Paul was still outside meditating. It was still early in the afternoon, so Daryl grabbed one of the pillows off the couch and tiptoed his way out onto the back deck. He saw the white headphone cords and knew Paul was listening to music. There was a fresh set of tear tracks on his boyfriend’s cheeks.

Daryl wasn’t worried. Paul sometimes teared up or cried when he meditated, and he respectfully let his boyfriend continue his session in peace. Daryl threw the pillow down onto the deck then laid himself down. He tightly wrapped his poncho around himself and decided to have a nap.

He drifted off easily enough knowing Paul was near him.

When the sun ducked behind a cloud, Paul pulled his headphones out of his ears when his mediation session ended and released a calming breath. His right hand came up to wick away a few tears that escaped during his meditation. He turned off his music and the sounds of nature and Daryl’s snoring filled his ears.

Paul looked to his right and saw Daryl asleep on the deck. His heart swelled in his chest as he watched his boyfriend sleep peacefully. Paul always teased Daryl that he snored and probably would draw every walker within a two-mile radius to them. The scout couldn’t resist lightly poking the hunter until he grunted out a response.

“Was sleepin’, darling,” Daryl grumbled. He pried one eye open to peek at Paul who was smiling at him with that playful expression. Daryl huffed as he rolled onto his back to make it easier to stare up at his boyfriend.  

The scout poked him again in the shoulder. “I know. Heard from Michonne you were out defending my honor,” he teased.

“Said I would. Hand hurts now,” Daryl said. He pulled his right hand out from under his poncho to show Paul. He wasn’t expecting a fuss and before he could protest, the scout was pressing kisses to the injured hand.

Paul shuffled off his meditation pillow and settled himself down against Daryl. He rested his head on his boyfriend’s stomach and sighed. “You didn’t hurt him to much did you?” Paul asked meekly.

“I let ‘im run his mouth before I punch ‘im,” Daryl said. “Then told ‘im why I was kickin’ his ass.”

The scout snuggled his face into Daryl’s poncho, he inhaled the familiar scent of motor oil, tobacco, and Old Spice. Paul poked his boyfriend in the shoulder again just because he could. “Do you think we can stargaze tonight?” he asked.

“Should be a clear night,” Daryl replied. His sore hand ended up in Paul’s hair as they lay together. He mindlessly played with his boyfriend’s hair until his back began to cramp up. “How’d your meditatin’ go?” he asked curiously as he hinted that he need to sit up.

Paul sat up and allowed Daryl to rearrange himself before dropping his head back into his boyfriend’s lap. “It went well. Mind is a bit clearer. How was your hunt?” Paul said. He managed to grab one of Daryl’s hands and he fidgeted with his fingers lovingly.

“Caught nothin’. Gonna have to make that opossum in the freezer,” Daryl said. He watched Paul wrinkle his nose in disgust. Daryl wiggled his hand free and tapped the scout on the nose. “Don’t make that face,” he teased.

“This is the fourth day you didn’t come home with something. Do we need to worry?” Paul asked. His anxiety peeked as he thought about Judith.

Daryl sensed the anxiety and cleared his throat. “Think them squirrels are getting smarter,” he said. He tapped Paul’s nose again.

“Nothing in the snares?” Paul asked next.

“Darlin’, don’t worry. Animals just getting ready for winter. I’ll go for a longer hunt tomorrow.”

Paul frowned. “I’ll go hunting with you tomorrow. Maybe if we both go there will be more chance of us catching something,” he said.

“No shooting the poor squirrels in the tail,” Daryl teased.

The first time he ever took Paul hunting it ended with the scout pouting and Daryl unable to breathe because he was laughing so hard. He was teaching his boyfriend how to shoot with the crossbow and unfortunately the shot only hit the squirrel’s tail. The angry rodent wasn’t pleased, and Daryl had to put it out of its misery because Paul decided to cry and pout. The scout made him vow to never tell anyone and they performed a little funeral for the squirrel with a proper burial. Daryl rolled his eyes over the waste of food but it was then he knew he would move mountains if it meant Paul would cheer up. After that hunting trip, he strictly let his boyfriend be responsible for snares.

“Hey! You promised not to mention Reggie’s demise,” Paul pouted. His bottom lip poked out as he glared at Daryl.

Daryl stopped his assault on Paul’s nose in favor of leaning down and kissing his pouty lips. “Sorry darlin’. Reggie was a good squirrel,” Daryl said. He bit back a taunting smile. He loved that Paul named the animals around him even the poor squirrel. He encouraged his boyfriend not name the cows and chickens as they were going to be food. Paul only named one animal at Hilltop – the rooster that insisted on chasing him if they were both out in the yard. That rooster was named Asshole because that was all the scout could scream at it while it chased him. Daryl found pleasure in watching Paul suffer until he himself was chased by the bird. His boyfriend named the animals that were brought in from the woods. Jumper the frog, Lulu the baby rabbit, and many other small animals were named then released. Daryl enjoyed teaching Paul about them and watching him hold the tiny bunny in his hands while showing the kids. He told them everything he learned then went with Daryl to return it to the wild. He loved the tender side of Paul and could appreciate naming each innocent creature.

“I don’t want to eat dirty opossum,” Paul whined.

The hunter chuckled. “Thought I said yah shouldn’t name the food,” he teased.

“Daryl…you know I hate opossum.”

He did know that. The whining was adorable and Daryl mimicked Paul’s pouting. “To bad the woods ain’t full of bread n butterflies since yah hate everythin’ else I bring home,” he said playfully.

Paul burst out laughing. He appreciated the reference and Daryl’s goofy side. “I don’t hate everything you bring home for supper,” Paul giggled.

“Yah hate opossum,” Daryl said.

The scout sat up to look at Daryl and dramatic acted as if he was insulted. “Daryl Norman Dixon…I’ll have you know that opossums are disgusting little scavengers that eat every,” he shot back.

“Yer right. Make yah a deal,” Daryl said.

Paul quirked an eyebrow and stared back at his boyfriend curiously.

“We eat the opossum tonight and won’t bring anymore home unless it’s necessary,” Daryl offered.

It was a good offer. One that Paul liked a lot. He weighed his options and thought about all the rodent meat his boyfriend brought home. He hated skunk more than opossum. “Can I counter your offer?” Paul asked.

Daryl nodded.

“We eat the opossum tonight and you won’t ever bring home skunk meat again,” Paul said.

The hunter grinned triumphantly. He was enjoying his boyfriend’s mood and the counteroffer was reasonable. “Yah got a deal,” Daryl said.

The meal didn’t turn out to bad. Paul pushed his food around for a bit then finally cleaned his plate. Daryl asked if it was sadness or opossum that was causing the fuss. Paul frowned and confirmed it was the meat effecting his mood. They did the dishes and enjoyed a shower together as they waited for the sun to set and the stars to appear.

Paul was bundled up in Daryl’s oversized Iron Maiden hoodie, yoga pants, and wool socks. His damp hair was tucked into his gray beanie and his favorite quilt was draped over his arm. He tapped his toe impatiently while Daryl finished up in the bathroom.

“Yah need a coat and shoes,” Daryl said from the bathroom doorway.

The scout pouted then went back downstairs to get the rest of his clothes on and wait.

Daryl adored Paul’s impatience. Stargazing was something they did on special occasions. It was another teaching moment for Daryl. He knew all the names of the stars and constellation. He would point them out to Paul and tell him all the stories. He knew that his boyfriend knew a lot of the stories and names though he always seemed so happy to listen. He taught Paul how to navigate the world with the stars if he ever got lost in the night and how to find his way home in the day.

Paul was fighting with his boots when Daryl finally came downstairs. He greeted him then returned to cursing under his breath as he tried to cram his woolen clad foot into his combat boots.

“Wear yer Chucks,” Daryl said. He reached into the closet and tossed the worn pair of black high tops over to Paul.

The shoes were special. Paul had packed them in his backpack before fleeing his apartment. There was only so much he could take from his home and the shoes were one of those things. A small selection of art supplies, two sketchbooks, and his iPod also joined the pile of things he wanted but didn’t need. In the end, he was thankful he took what he had. The shoes had many memories attached to them and something he could wear casually when he longed for normalcy in the new world.

Daryl had items he brought from the old world too. He appreciated the sentiment of holding onto simple things like a lighter or knife. He carried around a worn family photo with him even though his childhood was riddled with abuse. He still wanted to remember what his mom looked like and hold onto the memory of the one camping trip they took as a family that wasn’t a drunken event.

Paul tossed his combat boot back in its usual spot by the door and pulled the worn Chucks on. He watched Daryl pull his own boots on with ease and indicate that he was ready to head outside.

The hunter snuck out after supper to set up the blanket on the grass. He liked any excuse to cuddle and stargazing always resulted in Paul sitting in his lap wrapped in a blanket. He radiated heat which kept his boyfriend warm year-round. “Hurry up. Probably missin’ all them shooting stars,” Daryl teased.

“I’m coming,” Paul yelled. He tossed his quilt around his shoulders and got up. He had to lace his shoes to accommodate his socks. He rushed towards the backdoor of their kitchen where his boyfriend was waiting.

Daryl smirked.

“You have a dirty mind.”

“Only for you,” the hunter replied. He offered his hand to Paul and they walked into the yard together.

It was a beautifully clear evening. Many of the community members were already in bed for the night and the only sounds around them was nature. The world was theirs for a few hours. Daryl flopped down on the blanket and pulled Paul down to lay next to him. The scout snuggled up as close as physically possible.

“Tell me every story you know about the stars,” Paul mused. He loved to listen to Daryl talk about the stars in the sky. He was at ease listening to the hunter’s soothing, deep voice. Paul could easily get lost in listening to him talk.

Daryl hugged him close. “Yah know em all,” he said.

“I know. Still makes me happy when you tell me them.”

The hunter’s free hand pointed out the most known constellation in the sky. “Let’s start with the Great Bear then,” he said. He felt Paul’s face nuzzle into his chest as his seafoam eyes peeked up at the sky. Daryl’s heart melted as he watched the same smile of wonderment appear. He’d told Paul about these constellations many times and somehow, it always brought the younger man great happiness.

“Ursa Major,” Paul said.

Daryl turned his head just enough to plant a loving kiss to his boyfriend’s forehead. Seeing Paul this happy was a victory and he hoped their adventure outside the gates would be just as beneficial.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the next installment. Daryl has been busy trying to find ways to help Paul and Paul has found some time to meditate.  
> (The rooster is based off the one on our farm that is pure evil and went after me the other day)  
> I hope everyone enjoys their latest adventures and fluffy teasing.  
> I know that opossum is not a rodent, its a marsupial before someone comes for me :P


	6. Chapter 6

“Don’t yah dare,” Daryl warned. He narrowed his eyes at Paul who in turn was waiting to see which way the hunter was going to move.

Paul grinned manically. “It’s just snow,” he shot back.

“Don’t care. Stop tossin’ it around,” Daryl said.

The scout dropped the snow and pretended to be innocent.

“When I said yah could come hunting with me, I meant hunting not fuckin’ around,” Daryl said. He could act high and mighty all he wanted but he was enjoying his boyfriend’s elation over the snow.

Paul kicked the snow with his boot and looked up with his big seafoam eyes. His bottom lip stuck out in a pout over the mock scolding.

“Ain’t gonna work. Yer almost thirty-five,” Daryl said. He was constantly manipulated by those puppy dog eyes. He couldn’t resist Paul’s childishness because it was cute.

“And yer almost forty-eight,” Paul said mimicking Daryl’s drawl.

Daryl usually found the harmless jeering annoying when they were hunting. He liked peace so he could focus on tracking. He wasn’t about to remind Paul the importance of being quiet during a hunt. He didn’t have the heart to ruin on his boyfriend’s happiness either.

The depression came in waves.

Paul spent the weekend in bed staring at the wall. He cried and was in an argumentative mood. He accused Daryl of thinking of him as defective. It was because of the book Treating Survivors of Childhood Abuse. Paul found it when Daryl was dumping his backpack. Neither of them expected it to cause an argument and tears from them both. It nearly broke Daryl’s heart that Paul thought the book was a way to fix him. When it was revealed that the hunter had picked it up for himself, the scout couldn’t stop apologizing. Paul retreated to their bedroom where he shut down. Daryl snuck into the bedroom with the book and explained how much insight he gained from reading the book. He left it on the nightstand and said there was no pressure to read it. He crawled onto the bed and held Paul as they both went through the motions of being hurt.

He saw Paul flipping through the book after the weekend. The scout hid in the house all day reading then went to meditate in the yoga room. Daryl wasn’t expecting his boyfriend to snake his arms around his waist while he stood at the sink cleaning his recent kills. Paul apologized and thanked him for letting him borrow the book. He wasn’t expecting that they would talk in depth without the blanket fort. Paul was complacent enough to hug Daryl around the waist as they discussed what caused his stress and how he wanted to work through it.

They ended up sitting on the couch talking about their childhoods. The things that caused them stress was put out into the open. Daryl offered his insights on how he handled his stress and listened to Paul’s ideas of how he wanted to work through his. It was emotional, their own private therapy session together while they waited for the squirrel pot pies to cook.

Daryl took Paul hunting with him for a month and it seemed to help. The fall leaves fell from the trees only to be buried in snow. Paul enjoyed the snow, made a real show of playing around in it like he was a child again. Daryl grumbled but ended up laying in the snow next to him so they could make a pair of snow angels one afternoon.  

Snow meant that Paul’s birthday was coming then Christmas and Daryl’s birthday.

He didn’t have anything planned yet but Daryl thought about trying his hand at baking a cake and doing something Paul liked. They didn’t have a big party; it was usually time spent doing what the other liked.

Paul was still grinning away as he copied Daryl’s Georgian drawl. He was to busy goofing around to notice that his boyfriend had scooped up a handful of snow.

“Love you, yah lil’ shit,” Daryl said as he tossed a small handful of snow at Paul who in turn shrieked. He’d indulge his boyfriend’s need to horse around.

The scout’s seafoam eyes widened in shock, he started to laugh loudly as he grabbed snow off the ground and decided the best revenge was to chase Daryl around the small wooded clearing. They played around until all hopes of tracking their next meal was lost.

They trudged home empty handed.

Paul joked that he could make it up to Daryl for scaring off their potential prey. His goal was to put snow down the back of Daryl’s jacket. He kept up his taunting the whole way home along with stealing the odd kiss as he acted flirty.

“Caught nothin’ because yer such a flirt,” Daryl grumbled. He wasn’t mad, he was far from mad. He was disappointed that he returned home with nothing to show for his six hours of suffering out in the cold. He was the provider, the hunter of their community, a lot of people relied on him to bring food back.

The scout stopped his assault on Daryl. He dropped the snow in his hands and tugged on his boyfriend’s arm hard enough to stop him. “I’m sorry,” Paul said sincerely.

“I ain’t,” Daryl said. His gloved hand cupped Paul’s smooth face. “Spendin’ time with yah is always an adventure.”

“Even when I’m trying to put snow down the back of your jacket?”

Daryl rolled his eyes. “Even then,” he said.

Paul’s heartbeat escalated. If he wasn’t so cold, he’d want to stay there forever.

“Common, let’s get home,” Daryl suggested. He was cold, he hated winter with a glowing passion. If he didn’t need to go out hunting, he would hide inside the house where it was warm, and he could cuddle Paul all day long.

Their walk back home was uneventful. Paul decided to stop tormenting Daryl for a bit. The older man was grumpy because he was cold and there were limits to taunting him. Paul loved to push each of Daryl’s buttons if it would result in him getting the attention he wanted. He knew his boyfriend pretended to be unimpressed with things, each eyeroll was a fond sign that there was love between them.

Home was where the cat waited impatiently to be fed when they walked in the door. Daryl put away all his hunting gear and cursed under his breath when he stepped in melting snow in his socks. Paul handed his coat off to his boyfriend and sat down on the floor to work his boots off his feet.

“Fuck,” Paul cursed when he ripped a piece of his shoelace clean off his boots.

Daryl raised an eyebrow and bit back a shit eating grin. He loved his boyfriend’s occasional swearing. He was also going to enjoy telling Paul he was right. “Told yah, yah needed new laces for them boots,” he snickered.

“Help me,” Paul said. He kept procrastinating about changing the laces in his boots. It was something he said he’d do all month even after Daryl offered to do it for him. His foot was trapped in his boot and he just wanted to be free.

“Probably gonna have to cut the laces since yah tie em so weird,” Daryl teased.

Paul flopped onto his back and raised his right foot up in the air. “I want out of these fucking boots,” the scout grumbled.

Daryl pulled out his knife from his pocket then got a grip on Paul’s wet boot. He cut the knot and loosened the boot before pulling it off and dropping his boyfriend’s foot to the ground. “Well, give me yer other foot, princess,” he said gesturing with his empty hand that he was waiting.

“Princess,” Paul mimicked. He lifted his left foot for the next boot to be removed. “Ain’t no fucking princess,” Paul said crossing his arms over his chest.

“Keep swearin’ like that ‘m gonna tear yer pants off,” Daryl warned.

Paul started to beam. His seafoam eyes sparkled mischievously. “Fuck, shit, piss,” he said defiantly.

“Better watch that mouth, Mr. Rovia,” Daryl said. He tossed the other boot aside. He bit at his lip to contain his need for Paul. He would always be respectful of his boyfriend even if he himself wanted something.

“Get your fuckin’ ass down here, Mr. Dixon,” Paul whispered.

Daryl crouched down and smirked. “Lil’ shit,” he replied.

Paul grabbed his boyfriend’s coat and pulled him on top of him. “You better kiss me now because I missed this,” the scout moaned.

The hunter rolled his hips down against Paul’s and watched the younger man’s expression melt into pleasure. “Missed this too, darling,” he said ghosting his lips over Paul’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is a little filler chapter full of loving fluff.   
> I was feeling kind to Paul's feelings.


	7. Chapter 7

“I DON’T WANT YOU TO GET OLDER!” Paul sobbed.

Daryl was confused by the outburst. He nearly dropped his razor because he was startled by Paul’s sudden anxiety. He stepped back from the sink just enough to be able to peek into the bedroom where his boyfriend sat on the bed looking sad. “Breathe then tell me what is on yer mind,” Daryl said patiently.

Paul took a few counted breaths before he continued. Daryl’s birthday was approaching, and reality had sunk in that his boyfriend was nearing fifty. He had a similar reaction before his own birthday but it was more focused on how he feared dying young. “I don’t want you to get older…what if I lose you?” Paul said. He sniffled back his sobs and forced himself to calm down. It was part of his new routine to take his time then communicate what he was feeling to Daryl.

“Darling, yah know I ain’t goin’ anywhere,” Daryl said. He resumed his shave while he listened to Paul’s breathing even out and the sniffling subside. This was anxiety not depression. Daryl was expecting this to happen. Paul had gone through an anxiety attack a few days before his birthday, fearing that he would die one day. Daryl spent a lot of time holding his boyfriend explaining that he wouldn’t let anything happen and if it did, he would not be alone in the afterlife long. That only seemed to prompt more worry about Daryl’s life.

The scout hugged his knees up against his chest as he got worked up again.

“Paul,” Daryl started. He put his razor down and leaned casually against the doorframe. “Thought yah liked older men? Gonna be grayin’ soon,” he said with a smirk.

Paul chuckled.

“Plus ‘m more experienced. Can do all them things yah like,” Daryl said.

“Mm, what would that be?” Paul asked. He was willing to play his boyfriend’s game if it got his mind off his constant worries that he might lose Daryl. There was no way of knowing if the world would be cruel again to his boyfriend. There could be another man like Negan, sickness, something as simple as a bite that took his boyfriend down. What Daryl was doing was reminding him that they needed to live in the now not the past or worrying about where the future might stray.

Daryl shrugged. “Yah like when I trail ma lips down yer stomach. Kissin’ yer thighs, can always feel yah shaking when I do it. Yah really like when I rub yer feet or do the laundry,” he said. Getting to watch Paul’s dreary mood disappear was worth each comment.

“You think I like watching you do laundry?” Paul asked incredulously.

“Yah hate doing it even though yah claim folding it is yer favorite part.”

Paul hated how observant Daryl was. Many people assumed his boyfriend was a bit dimwitted. No one realized how much Daryl really knew about everyone around him. He was intelligent when it came to the outdoors and survival. He knew everything about mechanics and in Paul’s opinion a master problem solver. “I like the folding and sorting aspect of laundry. Scrubbing animal blood or walker guts off clothes isn’t my idea of fun,” Paul said bluntly.

“Yah wanna know some more things I know ‘bout yah?” Daryl asked. He pushed himself away from the doorframe, he crossed the room and sat down comfortably next to his boyfriend.

The scout watched intently was Daryl flopped down on the bed. His features were slightly aged, there were bits of salt and pepper coloring his facial hair especially on his chin. Daryl had a point, he did like his men a bit older, a silver fox was a bonus. He was attracted to his boyfriend the first time they met, and he was glad that impression was reciprocated. They had secret hook ups when they weren’t staying in the community together, any chance to go on a road trip to look for supplies was exciting when they went together. He wanted to know what Daryl knew about him. If his boyfriend knew something that meant he was being his usual observant self. “I’d like that,” Paul said. He stretched out his aching limbs and lay down beside Daryl. They were practicing sparing the day before and were both sore.

“I know yah collect flowers and leaves. Yah press em in certain books yah took out into the woods when yah finally decided to move to Alexandria,” Daryl said. He rolled onto his side to allow himself the best view of his boyfriend who in turn copied him by rolling onto his side. “Sleepless nights before we lived together, yah paced around. Some of yer most beautiful drawin’ happened on restless nights. Yah ripped up a few and cried. When I moved in, yah didn’t pace anymore.”

Paul’s eyes began to itch. “What else?” he asked.

“Yer damn fussy when yah eat. Always picking at yer food til yah get comfortable,” Daryl said. He shuffled a bit closer to his boyfriend and nuzzled his nose against his. “Bread is yer favorite. Nearly climb me when I gots junk food for yah. Always snackin’ when yer alone and yah do it ‘round me now. Never know if yah are starvin’ or bored.”

“Little bit of both,” Paul remarked.

Daryl smiled fondly. He sensed Paul was more at ease and his anxiety was melting away. “Yah like to collect things when we scavenge. Yah also like learnin’ about stuff I find for yah,” he said. “Yah collect some of the most practical and useless things. Always know yah appreciate whatever I give yah.”

“I love that you think of me enough to give me something every time you leave,” Paul said. He had a small collection of items lining random surfaces in his yoga room. It grounded him and reminded him that he was loved.

“Yer nightmares used to be bad enough yah talked or cried in yer sleep. They got better since we been together. Makes me want to protect yah from everthin’ that hurts yah. Happy yah tell me ‘bout yer nightmares now. Also talk to me more ‘bout what scares yah. Like bein’ yer hero when a moth or spider shows up,” Daryl chuckled.

Paul appreciated that his boyfriend didn’t laugh at his fears. He let his guard down and screamed for Daryl to take care of those little inconveniences. It felt good to be free of judgement. “You’re such a good listener when I need to talk and I love that what scares me doesn’t scare you or if it does you really hide it well,” Paul said softly.

Daryl threaded his fingers through Paul’s long brown hair and lightly combed it. He’d pause the world if he could. “Hate snakes just as much as you do. Rid the world of all bugs if I could. Yer a good listener too. Always know I can teach yah stuff and yah ask questions. Sometimes I think yah want to be annoyin’ but yer just learnin’ all yah can,” Daryl said. His fingers hit a tangle in his boyfriend’s hair and he gently worked his fingers through to avoid pulling his hair.

“You’re a wealth of knowledge, Daryl. I appreciate that you teach me things about nature and mechanics.”

“As horrible as it sounds…yer eyes are beautiful when yah cry. The green is the brightest color and it pains me to see yah like that,” Daryl admitted. “Yer eyes are beautiful all the time. Always find myself lost trying to figure out if they is blue or green.”

Paul bit his bottom lip. He breathed in his calming breaths to focus himself. “You’re making me tear up now,” he said.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Daryl said. He pressed a chaste kiss to Paul’s forehead. “I can stop but I think yah deserve to know what I love ‘bout yah,” he said adding another kiss.

The scout shook his head and looked into Daryl’s steel blue eyes. He wanted to know what Daryl thought because the suffocating feeling of being loved was like a high. He wanted more especially how low and loving his boyfriend’s voice sounded as he spoke to him.

“I love when yah sing. Glad Carol found that guitar so we can finally make music together. Yah remind me of Beth and I miss ‘er a lot. Music makes yah happy which makes me happy,” Daryl said. He resumed his affectionate petting of Paul’s hair.

Paul wiggled a bit closer until their foreheads rest against each others’. He never realized how being told he was loved could ground him. His mind was quiet, all his worries were minimal compared to listening to Daryl speak. His meditation focused on loving himself and accepting himself as enough for the day. Hearing Daryl offer insight to what he saw brought him a newfound acceptance for himself.

“Hm, what else? Yer lack of smokin’ and drinkin’ has made me a healthier person. Yah keep me on ma toes with the yoga and sparin’. Then there is the time spent in here,” Daryl hinted to the bedroom. He smirked playfully when Paul caught on.

“You know I don’t mind you smoking or drinking,” Paul said. He was glad that his lifestyle had rubbed off unintentionally on his boyfriend. It meant he might have more time with him in the future.

Daryl’s hand stilled in Paul’s hair. He tangled his hand in the locks and tugged lightly. “Yah will always be Paul to me. I hate callin’ yah Jesus. Hope one day yah will be Paul Dixon if yah want that,” he said sincerely. His chapped lips found Paul’s soft lips as he put his emotions into the kiss. He communicated best through physical communication. He worshiped in a certain way when it came to Paul. His boyfriend could talk openly about emotions where Daryl liked to show his affections through actions.

Paul eventually broke the kiss when Daryl’s words sunk in. “I’ll be Paul Dixon whenever you decided to ask but I want a proper engagement,” he teased.

“Don’t worry yer pretty head ‘bout it. I know yah would want somethin’ special.”

“Anything else?” Paul pushed lightly. He was rather invested in their bonding time and wanted it to last.

Daryl pecked a kiss to his boyfriend’s lips again. “Yah fidget a lot with yer hair or the ring I gave yah. Yer terrible fer bouncin’ yer knee when yer impatient. Drive me wild when yah chew yer nails cause it’s a bad habit and yah only do it when yer nervous,” he said.

“You seriously notice all that?” Paul asked. He was shocked that his boyfriend was that aware of his bad habits and the emotions connected to each.

“I know each of yer smiles and what they mean. I know the difference in the way yah cry. I understand yer different kinds of sadness and happiness. I love every sound yah make. I love tryin’ to make yah talk when you give me the silent treatment cause I know yer ticklish and eventually yah will laugh. God, I love yer laugh and how yah smile,” Daryl added. He could go on forever. He could list every favorite shirt, book, song, and drawing. He was able to recall memories, habits and seconds when an expression changed. “I know all yer scars and every part of yer body. I love every piece of yah as is. I love everythin’ that makes yah my boyfriend and how yah accept me for me,” Daryl said. He knew he needed to stop, tears where rolling down his boyfriend’s cheeks and his eyes were becoming that beautiful bright green against the red backdrops. Daryl was emotionally drained in a good way. He could sense the calm in the room.

Paul’s nose was stuffed up as he forced himself to stay in control. Daryl unloaded a lot of emotions on him, a true testament of love. The person who knew him the best in this world and loved him for so many reasons. His own list for Daryl seemed infinite. When he recovered the overdose of love and appreciation, Daryl deserved to hear some of Paul’s testament of love.

“Don’t cry, darlin’. Promise I’ll be here for yah as long as I’m ‘round. I love yah so much and ‘m proud of yah,” Daryl said. His hand released his boyfriend’s hair in favor of wicking away the tears.

“I don’t know how I got so lucky to have you but I am grateful everyday. I love you too,” Paul said. Of all the gifts and knowledge Daryl gave him, validation was the most valuable. It was out of love and healing. He could accept that he was enough, he’d be enough. It would still take time to work on his emotions and coping but it was enough. He was grateful for a boyfriend who would create such a safe place for him even if there was no control over what happened outside of their house. Paul was for the first time in a long time feeling settled. He wanted to explore that feeling and learn from his acceptance.

Daryl pulled Paul into a tight embrace and held him to his chest. He breathed in the clean smell of his boyfriend’s hair, he was small in his arms and yet so strong emotionally and physically. He wasn’t ready to return to their normal life outside of the bedroom. He was going to pause the world and stay in his loving embrace with Paul. He would kiss and wipe away tears until it was time resume life again.

“Thank you,” Paul said. He tightened his embrace around Daryl. He didn’t have words for everything he wanted to thank his boyfriend for right that second though he would physically show him. He’d put it into each kiss and touch while they lay there.

“Anythin’ for ya,” Daryl whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daryl's loving testament to Paul and all he observed of him while they were together.   
> I hope everyone joys the last chapter of this story. I wanted to end this on a loving note. I didn't want to drag it out on emotional pain which seems to be my favorite thing to do to my characters.   
> I have another story in mind for Daryl and Paul which I hope to explore here soon.   
> Thank you for all the kudos, comments and support as I wrote this! It is truly appreciated.


End file.
